My oldest friend passed away on January 17, 2004. He would have turned
40 on April 4th. We had been friends for 37 years. My mom, who passed away
ten years ago, bought Sakib when he was two and I was two. We called him
Keebie. Keebie was an Arabian stallion with big, brown, gentle, intelligent
eyes. I learned to ride on him. More importantly, I learned the unconditional
love and respect that can only come from the purest of hearts.
Mom had him at Belmont Race
Track where she was one of only a handful of woman trainers at the time.
She used him as a lead pony (although we all knew she just liked to show
him off) until he had the slightest bit of heat in his tendon. He came back
home that day. During his time as a lead pony he would lead fillies, mares,
and other colts or stallions with nothing but professionalism. He never acted
"studdish". He was always a gentleman, at home, work or play. He sired
about 50 foals, and always treated his mares with kindness and respect.
I have known hundreds of
horses in my life. I have never met a horse as wise and dignified as Keebie.
He befriended all creatures and humans he met. My children who are now 5
and 7 are the forth generation of my family to have known him. They both
have ridden on his back. I set a 50 pound weight limit on his back when he
was 30. They were happy to sit on him, but more happy to groom him. He loved
to be brushed, and would gladly give a back rub with his lips to anyone standing
in front of him while he had his withers curried.
We were planning on having
a big birthday celebration for Keebie this April. I've known for many years
that he was living on borrowed time, but I still expected him to live
forever. I don't remember life without him in it. We dug a grave before his
thirtieth winter. We live in the northeast where frozen earth can complicate
last wishes. He would never leave the farm that he and mom loved so much.
Well the grave filled with blowing sand over the years. Ten years went by
and now he was approaching 40. We re-dug the grave last fall. Not just being
practical, but with a feeling that this was going to be his final
winter.
His health was perfect until his last week with us. He stopped eating and
drinking. I called the vet on his third day with little appetite, who agreed
that he was still happy. He was showing no signs of distress. The vet said
he might snap out of it, or that he could die. I spent hours daily with him
during our last week together. It was a frigid cold snap. I would carry warm
buckets of water to him, hoping he would drink. I cooked him warm mashes
with apples and carrots and anything else I could think of that he might
eat. I brushed him and loved him. I saw him grow weaker. I knew
my friend was dying. I would cry to the heavens "Please Mom, just take him.
Don't make me have to put him down." But my prayers were not answered in
the way I wished. I went down to the barn on that cold Saturday morning to
find my oldest friend down, struggling to get up. My husband called the vet.
I sat in his stall with Keebie's head on my lap while we waited. Many
of our friends think he was waiting for me. I always said I wanted to go
to the barn and find that he had died in his sleep. I guess he wanted to
say goodbye.
Mom's best friend said it
best. "Sakib is now carrying Mom on his back - not here in the frigid north,
but over a vast desert. They are in search of a band of mares worthy enough
to be claimed by such a noble stallion. We would like to believe that each
of them has fulfilled their quest."
Ann Cibelli